The Light in the Darkness: Year 1
by melissa-writes
Summary: There is a War. William Malfoy has known nothing but death, destruction, and the dark arts. His father is abusive. One night, Will runs away, turning his back on all he knows and doors that have been locked all his life slowly begin to open...Year 1
1. Chapter 1: UPON THE DARKEST HOUR

**CHAPTER 1**

**UPON THE DARKEST HOUR**

The darkest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close as the sky transformed from its inky black to a wondrous display of bright, beautiful colors that stretched themselves blearily across the large, stately mansions of Salazar's Hollow.

Now normally, every wizard and witch who lived in the community, at sundown would be in their own houses, conversing nonchalantly about wizards or witches that had been killed or they had killed. However, lying beneath a stained-glass window of the Malfoy Manor, was the only pedestrian out at this time of night. His name was, William Malfoy.

William Malfoy was eleven years old, and in that short space of time, he had already become nonexistent to his parents, Draco and Pansy. Even William didn't know what he had done wrong to deserve not a word from his own parents. William, or Will, as he referred himself to, looked like a portrait of his father. He had the same blonde hair that grew like a field of wheat; never having been given a proper comb, it stuck up in certain places. He wore the same silvery, soulless eyes that his father had, except they were starved from deprivation. When he was young, he vaguely remembered his eyes resembling something alive, but now as he lay beneath the window, he saw nothing at all. Everything was the same, except for the pale face of Will. Will's pale face had a bit of pink to it, something his father never had. Not that Will was grateful for it, seeing as he hadn't spoken to his father or mother in at least five years.

As he lay beneath the window, he heard the drunken howls from the neighborhood. He peeked through the scraggly, unkempt, bushes, although he already knew what was going on. At sundown, the mangled bodies of the witches and wizards who were on Harry Potter's side that had been killed in that day alone were proudly displayed against the sunset by their murderers, which was accompanied by sickening drunk laughter. His attention was averted from the sickening sight, however, by a voice with laced with rum. Even, though, he, himself had not spoken to the voice, in five years, he knew that the voice belonged to no one else, but his father.

''Goyle killed six Aurors today.'' he slurred, proudly. ''That idiot has 'proved a lot since 'Ogwarts.''

''Za bloke sure 'as, Malfoy.'' said an equally drunken voice that Will didn't recognize.  
''Now 'bout da boy's Marking.''

Will's ears perked up and his eyebrows raised in unison. He tentatively stretched his own fingers up to the sill of the glass-stained window. He saw rippling images of numerous drunks changing colors as they swaggered from pane-to-pane.

''Well, eve'un knows dat da Marking takes places when da kid is at seventeen.'' Malfoy boasted. ''Bu' my kid, is special. Even, though I 'aven't talked ta da lit'le bastard in four years-''  
''Five.'' Will whispered through gritted teeth.

''-He'll be Marked 'fore he goes ta 'Ogwarts.'' Malfoy said, rather proudly, taking a long swig from a rum bottle.

''No.'' Will murmured. ''No. There's no way.'' Will's throat was as dry as sandpaper, his tongue was suffocating him as his throat began to close. He brought himself to swallow, and slowly stood up from the cluster of dead, blackened rose bushes he had been concealed by.

Will, then swiftly made his way to the front walkway adorned with the same dying rose bushes as underneath the window. The high-pitched, sickening, drunk laughter plaguing his mind.

''No eleven-year-old should have to hear that.'' Will murmured, as he got onto all-fours, and shrank beneath the dead rose bushes to the terribly shaken pavement. No sooner had his palm touched the ancient gravel that a thick leather boot graced by a long, billowing black traveling cloak appeared before his splayed fingers with a loud, whip-like crack. The crack tore the air like a gunshot and made everything in Salazar's Hollow still.

Icy sweat coursing down his body, Will arched his neck to see a tall figure standing before him. The figure said nothing, but a short, evil chuckle issued from its ancient lips. Will could not seeing the figure's face as the cloak hood was shrouding any physical feature he could possibly have. He was too stunned to move. The figure reached down a spidery, almost pure white hand and grabbed Will by the shirt collar. He was too stunned to talk. The figure lead him up the walkway to the only thing kept up to decency in the mansion- the door. With his other hand, the figure grabbed at the polished, diamond handle and the door opened with a crack that made Will's stomach drop to his shoes.

The little conversation that had resumed after the arrival of the figure had quieted as the door was opened. The only light came from candle that were charmed to hover slowly around the foyer. The entire party stood still for a brief moment, then Malfoy and Pansy slowly sank into a bow, touching their unkempt marble floor, their arms stretched out before them. They stood up as everyone bowed to the figure.

''Master.'' said Malfoy softly, cupping his free hand and kissing it, Pansy doing the same.

''Rise, all of you!'' boomed the figure's voice. The voice sent chills up Will's spine, and then he didn't doubt who it was. The voice was cold, unearthly, and high-pitched. The party arose as one, and the figure stretched up his pure white hand to drew back the hood.

It was Lord Voldemort. His skin was so pale it was almost white. His nose so disfigured it looked like snake's nostrils. His hands so splayed and skinny looked like a pair of large, skinny spiders. He was completely bald, but his eyes were what announced his fierce terror. His eyes were red. Red enough to be made from the blood of every murder he had committed over the years.

''Master.'' said Malfoy hoarsely. ''Please, Master forgive my son's presumptuous antics. He is most uncouth.''

''Accepted, Malfoy.'' said Voldemort. ''Seeing as you are my right hand it would be utter peril if your son wasn't in my Army.''

''Well I don't want to be in your Army, Voldemort!'' Will yelled. ''This is a horrible society!''

''YOU UNGRATEFUL BASTARD!'' Malfoy yelled. He struck Will hard across the face, ripping his shirt and sending him crashing into a glass swan, which shattered immediately. The splinters of glass ripped through his body, stabbing every inch of him. He cried out in pain, as blood poured from every place he could think of, but no one seemed to hear him. The party just laughed and jeered at Will. Malfoy then began hitting Will in every place imaginable. He then threw Will with all the strength he could must at the stairs, staining the marble a deep scarlet from his blood.

''GO TO YOUR ROOM AND NEVER COME OUT OR I'LL KILL YOU!'' Malfoy yelled. ''DIE THERE, BASTARD!'' Will turned on his wounded heel and limped up the stairs, grabbing onto the railing and pulling himself up.

An eternity later, he arrived at his room and fell over the threshold. His room was in total disorder; drawers were pulled open, clothes were thrown about the room, his bed was unmade, as his cheap blue wallpaper was peeling around the edges. White-hot pain pulsated through his body like poison. He lay face-down on the floor of his bedroom. His eyes watered with pain. The drunken laughter still rang in his head like a church bell. Will brought himself to stand up and limp over to the only window in his entire room, many panes were missing and those Will had repaired them as best as he could, with bits and bit of clothing. Little sunlight permeated the window.

He then fell backward over the rusted metal bars of his bedframe, slicing open news wounds along his legs. He cried out in pain as his bloodied body settled in his thin, soiled sheets.

He was in a terribly familiar place. He collapsed onto this very bed when he father became drunk (which was often, almost every night) and would hit him. He would lay motionless for hours on end, trying to avoid thinking about the terrible pain that ripped through him as the blood-caked sores stained the already deeply soiled sheets.

He lay, his breathing shallowed as he stared around his bare, blue walls. Will began to cry softly, blinking back the tears as best as he could. All he wanted, was to be loved for once in his life. That's all he ever wanted, but would never have.

Will struggled to sit up. Then he saw by the meager light, a silhouette against the silver moon. The silhouette got larger and larger until it landed on the sill. It was a beautiful snowy owl, with a letter tied it its leg. Will limped over to the window and undid the knots that held the window together. The owl flew in, and then looked at Will with large amber eyes. Will stroked the owl with a bloodied finger, then carefully undid the letters. The owl puffed out its feathers importantly and then took flight. He then, quickly redid the knots of the windows, before carefully sinking into his soiled bed-sheets once more. There were two letters. One was the acceptance letter to Hogwarts addressed to him in emerald green ink:

_Mr. William Malfoy  
7 Salazar Way  
Small Bedroom  
Salazar's Hollow, Wiltshire_

With a trembling finger, and a streak of blood, Will opened the envelope and pulled out the thick parchment. He only had to read:

_Dear Mr. Malfoy, _

We are pleased to inform that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

before he felt elated for the first time in his life. He brought himself to smile slightly, as he stared up at the bare ceiling. He unfolded the other letter. It was written in an untidy scrawl and said the words:

_Come to Sojourn & Colks in London immediately._

Without any further thought, Will folded up the two letters and undid every bit of cloth that held together his window. He slid through the small gap, down the smooth stone roof and disappeared into the darkness, not looking back.


	2. Chapter 2: THROUGH SOJOURN & COLKS

**CHAPTER TWO**

**THROUGH SOJOURN & COLKS**

The bitter cold made Will wish he had thought to bring his cloak before he ran away. The unforgiving wind made his eyes water as it whipped at his face. He blew on his free hand for warmth as the other hand was grasping the anonymous note in his jeans pocket. He limped soundly through Salazar's Hollow, grateful that the drunks of the twilight were now dozing into hangovers, and the sick laughter had abated the streets. Some of his wounds still stung, and blossomed blood onto his jeans. Will was as determined as ever not to go back from the Hell he had just leapt from. He knew from eavesdropping on the stair landing when his father held meetings that, London was a good all-night walk and Underground ride from where he now stood on the barren streets, but he didn't care.

Somewhere, somehow, someone knew he was being treated like a prisoner and wanted to help him. He continued to walk until he came upon an ignored, deserted play-park with a rusty, formidable iron fence that made Will think about falling over his bed-frame and scraping up his legs. The unkempt, ignored grass was starved yellow and brown with age, and it curled forcefully against the gate as if it had jaws. A rusted, broken jungle-gym was far back, against the thick vines that had ensnared themselves around the fence. An equally rusted and poorly repaired slide loomed in front of a bench with chipping sea-green paint. Dead flowers spilled over the flowerbeds that dotted the park. A seesaw with no paint and several noticeable bent and loose nails due to poor repair jobs remained motionless next to a colorless, lopsided merry-go-round. Will limped easily through the gates (their doors hanging off rusted hinges) and settled underneath the slide in the dead grass, curled up for warmth, and let sleep slowly overtake him.

He was standing the darkness alone. Cold, cruel laughter ripped through his ears, then a giant, misty form of his father appeared, towering in the shadows. He brought his giant hand down with a sharp intake of breath Will found himself bleeding from his forehead. The cold, cruel laughter still rang in his ears.

''What are you doing down there, little boy?'' asked a voice. Will's eyes opened and he stared around blearily. He felt blood running down the side of his face and a pounding pain in his temple. He had a sharp intake of breath when he set his soulless eyes upon a man that had spoken to him.

''It's alright.'' said the man kindly. ''I'm not going to hurt you.'' the man had vivid red hair and freckles. He had large blue eyes, a long nose, and big hands and feet. His face wore a kind smile.

''Who are you?'' Will asked shakily, struggling to prop himself up on his injured elbow.

''My name is Ron Weasley.'' the man said. ''I was the one who sent you that note. What happened? You should be at Sojourn and Colks. It's much safer than this play-park.''

''I-I was tired sir.'' said Will, still frightened. ''I'm sorry.'' he then froze his body, an expression of pain on his face.

''What are you doing?'' Ron asked, a friendly chuckle in his voice.

''Aren't you going to hit me now?'' Will asked. ''It's what my father did.''

''Hit you?'' Ron asked, as though the idea was ludicrous. ''No! I certainly am not going to hit you! I'm trying to help you, and I will. I wouldn't even dream of hitting a child. Especially one already so beat up as yourself. Did your father hit you like that?'' Ron's hand moved toward Will's newest wound and brushed back his hair. Will said nothing.

''Did he?'' Ron asked, staring into Will's eyes. ''I won't tell anyone, I just have to know.'' The tears came easily, they rolled down his cheeks, seeping into his welts. Ron wrapped his arms around Will, patting him on the back.

''It's okay.'' said Ron gently. ''It's okay, no one will hurt you anymore.'' Will's tears slowly abated and he stayed underneath the slide, being cradled by Ron.

''Sir.'' said Will slowly. ''What is Sojourn and Colks?''

''Sojourn and Colks is an old, deserted furniture store.'' Ron explained, letting go of Will.

''How could it be safe then?'' Will asked.

''Well-'' said Ron, choosing his words carefully. ''Sojourn and Colks is just a cover my wife and I use.''

''Cover for what?'' Will asked.

''A home.'' said Ron simply. ''My wife, Hermione, and I we run a home for children who have nowhere to go, and we have a unique system for finding children much like yourself.''

''What system?'' Will asked, liking this man more ever minute.

''My owl.'' said Ron. ''Pig. My wife, being a Muggle-born Witch is very intelligent and fitted Pig with her own Charm. A _Deprehensio-Liberi _Charm.''

''Can I live there?'' Will asked.

''Of course you can.'' said Ron. ''I think it would be best if we used a Portkey to travel instead, seeing as you're bleeding a lot, I'm not sure Muggles would take to it lightly.'' He pulled out a thin, wooden wand from his waistband and pointed it at the tightly ensnared vines.

_''Diffindo.''_ he said simply. A piece of the vine broke off with ease. Ron surveyed it lazily. _''Accio.''_ the vine floated to his hand. _''Portus.'_' the vine glowed with a faint blue light.  
''Sir.'' said Will, interested. ''What are you doing?''

''You'll see.'' said Ron, grabbing Will's uninjured hand.

Will felt a painful jerk somewhere in his navel, and the play-park melted around him in a whirl of color. He felt short of breath, as if he was going to throw up, and then, he smacked onto the pavement of a deserted street. Looming before him was the dirtiest building Will had ever laid eyes on. Ron helped him to his feet.

The building was made of dirty red brick. The door was in bad shape and in need of repainting. The shop windows that displayed ugly moth-eaten couches were missing several panes. A large, splotched, almost illegible sign hanging by one rusted bronze hinge read the words: _SOJOURN & COLKS_ in script lettering. Will surveyed the shop with distaste, but Ron wore a small, schoolboy smile as if he were being mischievous. He walked up to the shop window and rapped on the few panes that were intact with his wand. The glass was still for a moment then ripples pulsated through the glass. Ron stepped backward, seized Will's uninjured arm and leapt through the glass.

The glass window melted into a solid brick wall. Will found himself standing, not on a cold, night street in London, in front an antique furniture store, but in a large room made of red brick with an uneven off-white tiled floor. The only light came from two large windows that took up a wall each, that silvery light streamed through. There was a long, spiral staircase twisting this way and that, through the building like a giant serpent. A large, empty fireplace stood black against the red brick wall. Other than that, Will and Ron were the only two things in the room.

''Hermione!'' Ron called. ''I got him!'' With a loud crack, that sank Will's stomach to his shoes, a woman with bushy brown hair and brown eyes wearing a periwinkle blue dressing gown appeared in the room.

''This is my wife, Hermione.'' Ron introduced to Will.

''Pleasure.'' Hermione smiled at him.

''Pleased to meet you, miss.'' said Will, giving a short bow.

''What a well-mannered young man you are.'' She said. ''What is your name?''

''Hermione, let the boy sleep, he's had a long journey.'' Ron said abruptly.

''Ron!'' said Hermione, somewhat reproachful. ''He's covered in blood! Was he hit?''

''I'll tell you as soon as he is in bed. Let him sleep.'' Ron said, in a final sort of way.

''Ever since our schooldays honestly, Ron!'' said Hermione hotly, her hand resting on the stair banister. ''Very well. Come on them, er-Malfoy.'' Will's blood ran cold. As he was about to put his foot on the sixth stair, he turned to Hermione.

''Sorry?'' he asked.

''Oh, it's nothing, dear, since I do not know your actual name, I just thought of a name to call you. You look a lot like a boy I knew from my own days at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy. Sorry, if it offended you.''

''No, miss.'' Will said, as he continued to climb the stairs. ''It didn't. I don't even know the man.''

Hermione led Will up the serpent staircase to what seemed to be the topmost floor. Crooked Wizarding photographs dotted the walls, many of a group of people with flaming red hair. There was also a newspaper clipping yellowing with age that showed a black-and-white photo of a family in front of a towering pyramid pinned up next to a color Wizarding photograph that showed a teenage redhead, a black-haired-green-eyed, bespectacled teenage boy, and a teenage girl with bushy brown hair, all smiling and waving furiously, their arms linked with one another. There was just one door in the small hallway. Hermione led him to the door, but didn't open it.

''Take the bed nearest to the window.'' She said to him. ''I'll see you in the morning. Good night.'' She gave him a quick hug, before Disapparating. Will smiled slightly and turned the doorknob.

The room was large and dark. There were only a few windows along the walls, and one long window on each wall at the end. Meager moonlight played across the identical navy blue bedspreads. It swam from bed-to-bed, not lingering much. Will watched the silver light curiously, following it slowly from sleeping child to sleeping child. The moonlight reached the bed nearest to the window and too tired to even take off his shirt, fell into the navy blue bedspread. It was like flopping onto a cloud. A digital clock embedded in the red-brick wall flashed neon green numbers. It flashed 4:16 AM, before Will's eyes slowly closed.

An hour or so later, Will was jolted awake by voices arguing, trying to whisper, but not having much success.

''Ron!'' said a voice, which Will recognized as Hermione's. ''You were the one who wouldn't tell me! And now, you want to throw him out? You were the one that found him!'' she said hotly.

''Well, that was before I truly knew who he was!'' Ron yelled. ''Had I have knew he was that-that wanker's offspring I would have left him to die under that slide!''

''So what?'' Hermione yelled. ''So, he's Malfoy's child! We're just Ash's-''

''Shut up!'' Ron hissed. ''Point is, he's a damn spy for his father!''

''How would you know, Ron?'' Hermione yelled. ''The poor thing is covered in blood! I doubt he'd be a spy of any sort!''

''Fine!'' Ron yelled. ''But when we wake up and see the Dark Mark over our house don't blame me!''

''So, you aren't going to toss him out?'' Hermione asked, tentatively. There was a long, hard silence following Hermione's inquiry. Will's breath caught in his throat, staring at the four square parquet. Anxiousness pulsating through his body like poison.

''No.'' said Ron, finally. ''I won't.''

''Do you promise, Ron?'' Hermione asked him, worriedly.

''Yes, Hermione, dear, I promise, I won't throw him out, but Geoffrey won't be at all pleased with it.'' He replied.

''Well, Geoffrey will have to adapt, just like Scabbers did to Crookshanks, remember?'' said Hermione, her voice full of warm happiness.

''Hermione.'' Said Ron, somewhat stiffly, torn between disturbance and absolute seriousness. ''Scabbers turned out to be a mass murderer.''

''Oh right.'' Hermione murmured. ''Right. Bad example.''

''Anyway, it's late, and you haven't laid down at all since you brought Will here. I'll tend to the children this morning. You sleep.'' Hermione said sweetly.

''Thank you.'' Said Ron, yawning. There was the sound of them clambering up the serpentine staircase, and that was the only sound Will heard as he fell back into his pillows, wondering if Ron would keep his promise to Hermione.


	3. Chapter 3: THE BREAK OF THE UNSPOKEN

**CHAPTER THREE**

**THE BREAK OF THE UNSPOKEN**

''Wake up everyone! Breakfast is almost ready!'' Hermione called. Will's eyes opened. The neon green light flashed: 9:00 AM over the sea of bedraggled children.

''Breakfast?'' Will yawned in astonishment. ''You mean I get fed here?''

''Yeah, breakfast.'' said a girl's voice. Will turned to the bed next to him, as he was undoing his blanket from his legs. The girl had curly, dark red hair and dark blue eyes; her face was pink with tiredness.

''Don't you get breakfast?'' the girl inquired. ''I mean from your mum and dad?'' Will said nothing. The girl didn't acknowledge Will after that.

Seeing as he fell asleep in his clothes, which were ragged and three times too big for his body, Will just pulled on his sneakers, which he had fell out of earlier. As he sat up, he became aware of a pounding pain on the side of his head, then realized that he had bled on the bedspread all night and now a great portion of his pillow was stained a bluish-black. His baggy, dark gray T-shirt was even darker than its natural color. His silvery-blonde hair was disheveled, but he didn't care. His T-shirt was also ripped in two along the back in a jagged, displeasing line, exposing his bruised and scarred back. Without a word, as the other children were pulling off their nightclothes, he left the room, and began his descent along the serpentine staircase. He was soon joined by the girl who slept in the bed beside him.

''Hi!'' she said cheerfully, bouncing alongside Will, brushing her hair as she talked.

''Hullo.'' Said Will dully, not wanting to talk much.

''My name's Ashley.'' She went on, oblivious to Will's withdrawn attitude. ''Ashley Weasley. People call me Ash.''

''Are you related to Ron?'' Will asked, feigning an interest as not to talk about his own family.

''Yeah.'' Said Ash, as they made their way down a section of the serpentine staircase where the walls were plastered in Daily Prophet clippings, some yellowing with immense age, and crumbling at the sides. ''He's my father.''

''Must be nice.'' Will murmured, as they clambered closer to the main lobby where a hard gale was pounding forcefully against the mullioned windows. Odd bronze lanterns were lit and slowly floating around the room.

''What?'' Ash asked, as she leapt from the third to last stair.

''Nothing.'' Will said quickly, grateful for the sudden rush of the haggard children from the Sleeping Quarters.

There were about 10 haggard children who arose from their beds after Will and Ash. Despite their slim number, the children wove into a knot. The knot traveled through the lobby, their tired eyes resting softly upon the gale as if it were calming their tortured souls, then it weaved through a doorframe where the knot broke ranks. When the last tousle-haired head left the front of Will, he could see that they had entered a terribly disorganized kitchen. There was a fairly long wooden table with several mismatched chairs haphazardly clustered around it near a group of the same mullioned windows. There was wooden paneling along the ceiling that seemed to trap the off-white paint that crept around the walls. There was a small dark granite countertop that held a steel basin in which dishes were cleaning themselves. A group of cabinets snaked along the top of the kitchen as well as the bottom. There was commotion of sharp banging coming from the cabinet below the sink. The copper pots that had not been used were restless and venting their energy by making as much noise as possible. In front of every mismatched chair lay an either chipped or tarnished plate.

''C'mon.'' Ash said. She grabbed Will's arm and dragged him over to the mullioned windows, and sat down.

''I forgot.'' Ash said, brushing her curls out of her eyes. ''You never told me _your_ name.'' she dragged out the word ''your''.

''Oh. Will.'' He said dully. Ash laughed.

''What?'' she said. ''You don't have a last name?''

''Er-yeah.'' Said Will offhandedly. ''I-er-don't.''

''But everyone has a last name.'' Ash persisted.

''Some people don't.'' Will argued as scrambled eggs appeared on the plates and milk filled their glasses by magic. He immediately began eat. He never knew just how hungry he was. He was about to take a sip of his milk, before Hermione walked towards him. She handed him two metal cups. Tears rested on her eyes, and Will knew why.

''Here, drink these.'' Hermione said, somewhat motherly, as she wrung her hands.

''What are they-er-Mrs. Weasley?''

''Blood Replenishing P-Potion and Healing Potion dear.'' Hermione said softly. Then she scurried away before she could say anything. Ash stained her neck and stared as Hermione moved through the kitchen with prominent eyes.

''I wonder why my mum is crying.'' Ash murmured. Will stared at his scrambled eggs for a moment, unnoticeably twirling the fork between his fingers.

''She probably was near onions or something.'' Will said quickly, downing his potions, then shoving a particularly large forkful of egg into his mouth to mask the taste and prolong his silence.

''Just tell me, Will.'' Ash persisted again, once the knot was formed, then quickly broke ranks again in the lobby.

''No.'' Will murmured. He walked to the wooden bench that wrapped it way around the room underneath the mullioned windows where a forceful gale was still pounding.

''Why?'' Ash said, joining him on the bench.

''Because-'' Will paused, trying to word what he was going to say. ''Because-friends, don't hurt friends.''

''How could a name possibly hurt someone?'' Ash asked him.

''Trust me, names can.'' Will murmured.

''Just tell me.'' Ash repeated.

''No, Ash.'' Will retorted furiously, standing up from the bench, his fists clenched.

''ASHLEY GINEVRA WEASLEY!'' The two of them spun around at the sound of a voice that quieted the entire lobby.

''Geoffrey.'' Ash whispered. ''My brother.'' The voice belonged to a 15-year-old boy with flaming red hair, freckles, and blue eyes. He had big hands, a big nose, and big feet. He looked positively livid.

''What in the name of Merlin are you on about?'' he yelled, swiping her by the arm away from Will.

''What's your problem, Geoffrey?'' Ash yelled, her ears scarlet.

''Do you know who he is?'' Geoffrey yelled, his voice getting hoarse.

''Yes I do!'' Ash yelled. ''His name is Will and he's more torn at the seams than we will ever be!''

''Do you know who his father is?'' Geoffrey shouted.

''No! But how would that matter?'' Ash retorted.

''Trust me! With this bastard being your 'friend' it would matter!'' Geoffrey yelled. ''Honestly, Ash, I'm only trying to protect you!''

''Protect me?'' Ash yelled. ''From what? Blokes now, Geoff! What's next, mum and dad?''

''And that's another thing!'' Geoffrey yelled. ''RON AND HERMIONE ARE NOT OUR PARENTS! OUR REAL PARENTS WERE KILLED BY DRACO MALFOY WHEN YOU WERE ONLY TWO!''

A terrible silence rang in the lobby. The silence screamed in Will's ears, as Ash turned towards him, then her eyes swimming with tears ran up the staircase.

The hours passed slowly. No one spoke to Will, or acknowledged him. As soon as the sun set, the gale still pounding against the blackness of the windows, Will walked up the staircase to the sleeping quarters. He heard nothing, but the muffled sobs of Ash. He walked over to her bed. Her face was buried in her pillow. The parquet creaked, but Ash didn't look up.

''Ash.'' Will said softly. He sat on his bed, and sighed. He touched her shoulder. ''Ash.'' He repeated. Ash rose from her pillow. Her face was red and tear-stricken, her eyes were puffy from crying.

''Ash, I am so sorry. I-I honestly didn't know. I-''

''I knew all along.'' Ash murmured.

''Knew what?'' Will asked, surprised she was talking to him.

''Knew who you were. I knew your last name. I was awake too.'' She told him. Will stared.

''Then why'd you-''

''The only reason I did that was to see if you would tell me straight out, but you didn't. And what you said earlier- friends, don't hurt friends, proved to me that, it's not always like-father-like-son. It proved to me that, a Malfoy and a Weasley could be friends.'' Ash smiled at him. Will gave a half-smile and put his arm around her shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4: MARCUS FLINT

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**MARCUS FLINT**

Later that night, when everyone had gone to bed, and an eerie silence settled over the house, Will and Ash slowly crept out of bed, and pulled on their dressing gowns, at the sound of two familiar voices. They sneaked down the stair-landing, taking care as if the entire staircase was littered with glass, Ash leading the way with a levitating candle she had snatched from the lobby. They neared the kitchen's doorframe and slowly peeked around the edge. They saw a haggard Ron and tousle-haired Geoffrey sitting at the table, their faces illuminated by a number of stationary candles suspended in the air around them.

''You know, Geoff, you can't protect Ash forever. She's going to Hogwarts in a month.'' Ron said, sipping what appeared to be sherry.

''But she's friends with him.'' Said Geoff bitterly, putting an emphisis on the last word, and sipping his own glass of sherry.

''Geoff, you know I resent him as much as you do. I promised Aunt Hermione he could stay here.'' Ron said.

''And you're allowing it? Willingly, I mean?'' Geoff asked, downing his glass of sherry and pouring a second glass.

''Well-I must admit, your sister is pleased with the Malfoy bastard.'' Ron admitted.

''I don't give a damn if she's pleased with him. I don't want her to be pleased with him. I don't want her around him. He's the bad feather of the phoenix, Uncle Ron.'' Geoff muttered.

''I know he is, but you can't pal around with Ash. She's an intelligent bird, she will soon discover he's a bad bloke, and not hang around him.'' Ron replied, pouring his third glass of sherry.

''Over my dead body.'' Ash whispered through gritted teeth. Will put a hand to her mouth to stifle her resentment, and their candle flew from Ash's hand with a sharp thud it hit the floor.

''An' you gotta not to protect her anymore. She's a growing girl, she doesn't need protection from you.'' Ron said, too drunk to take in the scuffle outside the kitchen.

''Well, if I don't protect her, she's not going to realize that he's a bad bloke.'' Geoff said, not noticing the scuffle either. Ash and Will straightened up, and listened raptly, brushing their disheveled hair out of their eyes.

''Well, I got that problem solved already.'' Ron said, leaning closer to his nephew's face. ''They won't be together for long. I found Will's Godfather, and he agreed to take him in.''

''Who's his Godfather?'' Geoff asked, imploringly.

''A Slytherin bastard that was on the Quidditch team when I was at Hogwarts.'' Ron said. ''He says he got over his drinking problem, but that's about as true as a troll's word to me. His name's Marcus Flint.''

''I think I've heard of him.'' Said Geoff thoughtfully. ''Didn't he run from You-Know-Who because he didn't want to be Marked?''

''Yes, he did, but dunno why. His whole family is a batch of Death-Eaters.'' Ron murmured, drinking more sherry. He then put a hand of Geoff's shoulder, as if it was a gesture of comfort.

''Don't worry. Flint will be here to pick up the bastard tomorrow, before breakfast, so you don't have to dance in a patch of Doxies for long, Geoff. Your sister will soon be devoid of any Death-Eater's son.'' Ron gave an encouraging smile, then stood up.

''C'mon, Geoff. It's really late. We should get some sleep.'' Before they headed for the doorframe, Will and Ash had already started running up the stairs, three at a time, then careened into their beds, both of them, out of breath, and staring up into the endless void of blackness, that by morning, would be a ceiling.

''You think it's true, Will?'' Ash whispered, curling her blanket around her shoulders and staring at the bed beside her.

''Think what's true?'' Will asked, savoring the warmth of a blanket.

''What my fa-I mean what my uncle said. About your Godfather, you know, coming to take you home tomorrow?'' Ash replied.

''Probably. I mean what else would your brother and your uncle be so pleased about that has to do with me?'' Will said, sighing deeply. ''I mean, this isn't fair! The second I finally find a friend and finally don't have to forage for food, or cringe at the sight of my caretakers, I get whisked away from it all! I don't even know my Godfather for starters, much less that I had one.''

''Uncle Ron's my Godfather.'' Ash said. ''My dad, I think, his name was, Fred was his brother. So maybe, this Marcus Flint could be related to you somehow.''

''Maybe, but I would've known him then. That's what my dad makes sure of. If I'm related to someone he hasn't killed yet, then I know them.'' Will murmured. Ash said nothing.

''I just don't want to leave you. I mean, what if I never see you again?'' Will asked the window panes blankly.

''I'm sure we'll see each other someday soon.'' Ash murmured.

''How? Someday could be like twenty years from now.'' Will told her, sitting up.

''I know.'' Ash murmured, sliding her arms around Will's shoulders. ''That's what I'm afraid of.''

''I know.'' Will whispered, sliding his arms around Ash. ''I'm scared too.''

''That's why I didn't tell you.'' Ash murmured, it was almost inaudible.

''Didn't tell me what?'' Will asked. Having eavesdropped on his father for so many years, Will doubted if he couldn't hear anything.

''Didn't tell you about-well-it's not really a Home rule-more of an obvious one.'' Ash said, stumbling over her words.

''Look, Ash, just say it.''

''It's just, we aren't allowed to form bonds, because one day, the kid your friends with might be-taken away by a guardian, because it-well-hurts.'' She said.

''I can see why you didn't tell me.'' Will murmured, avoiding eye contact with Ash, tears stinging his eyes like a swarm of angry doxies. ''It hurts.''

''Yeah.'' Ash murmured. Her voice sounded strangled and old, as if she had lost use for it. She cleared her throat. ''We should get to bed, you know.'' She whispered, sliding off of Will's bed, and back into her own.

''I'm just afraid to close my eyes.'' She murmured. ''I'm afraid I won't see you again.''

Later that day, morning had barely risen itself, traces of nighttime hung in the air. A faint mist hung about the bodes of water, as if the world was still drowsy. However, Will, and Ash were already up, fully clothed, their stomachs screaming to be fed. Will hadn't even to feebly attempt to tame his hair. So it was handsomely rumpled. His shirt was terribly wrinkled, his jeans were threadbare. The early morning sunlight that crept throughout the town, seemed to forget the Home, and Will didn't blame it. He stood by the untouched window, trying hard not to cry. He felt someone touch his shoulder. He turned around and saw Ash, tears laid thickly on her eyes.

''Hey! Bastard! Your Godfather's here!'' Geoff's voice, almost sickly musical sang out. Ash whipped around, about to do something, her eyes shining with tears, but was held back by Will. A tall man wearing a shabby black cloak entered the room. He had rumpled dark brown hair, and crooked teeth. He had large, dark eyes. He looked as if his ancestry was littered with trolls.

''Hello.'' He said, emotionlessly to Will. ''I'm Marcus, your Godfather. Ron said, you needed a home, and well apparently I was the only one who volunteered. Well, I'll allow you to say your goodbyes and all.'' He said, unfastening his cloak.

''No!'' said Geoff. ''Go! Go! You two don't even know each other!''

''Silence, Egomaniac.'' Marcus said simply, digging his hands into his jeans. ''You obviously are extremely ignorant and therefore believe this boy has links to his father.'' Geoff gaped at him.

''But-But-with-all-all do respect Marcus-''

''Mr. Flint, Geoffrey.'' said Marcus, cuttingly.

''Right. Er-Mr. Flint-It is impossible for him not to!'' Geoff retorted.

''Foolish boy.'' Marcus said, shaking his head lightly in displeasure, while Ash and Will were punching each other and biting their lips to keep their laughter down. ''You had to have actually belonged to the dark side for a while to truly understand how they operate. The only reason I was linked with Voldemort, was because my own parents were Death-Eaters. Obviously, I chose not to coexist with such barbarians, so here I stand. Now, let Will say his goodbyes.'' Geoff just stared at him. He regained feelings in his legs and clambered stupidly over to his uncle who was looking exhausted, a traveling cloak over his arm.

''Uncle!'' Geoff hissed. ''I thought you said he was stupid!''

''Well, obviously the bloke has smartened himself up a little bit!'' Ron snapped. ''Now, I'm only giving you what you want, because you are the only one who appears to have a brain in this house.'' Geoff leaned against the wood paneling, wearing a smug look.

''Now, say goodbye, Will.'' Said Marcus gently, putting a warm, comforting hand on his shoulder. Surprise shot through his body like needles. He had never had someone touch his shoulder like that, or talk to him so fatherly. At least no one that was old enough to actually be his father.

Will swallowed, giving his Godfather a faint nod, then ran to Ash, embracing her as if they were being reunited after so many years. Ash wrapped her arms around Will, and the two of them started crying. Ash buried her face into Will's wrinkly shirt. Will hugged her tightly.

''Don't go, Will. Please.'' Ash sobbed.

''I don't want to go.'' Will murmured, trying to dry his tears. ''But I have no choice. You heard Ron and Geoff last night.''

''I know.'' Ash cried. ''I know.''

''I still don't want to go though.'' Will muttered. ''Ash, you're my first true friend. I'll never forget you.''

''Now, you're making it sound like-''

''I know.'' Will interjected. ''But you-you-never really know.''

''Do you want to come out to the pavement with us, Ash?'' Marcus asked kindly.

''Yes, thank you very much, sir.'' Ash said, tearfully, gripping onto Will, afraid she might lose him.

Marcus led Ash and Will outside to the misty pavement, and waited patiently.

''I'm-I'm really going to miss you.'' Will murmured, still holding Ash in his arms, blinking back tears.

''I'm going to miss you. I swear the first chance I get, I'm going to kill my brother. I mean, how could he do this to me-to-you? It's insane! I haven't had a real friend in years! And then, you show up and now you have to go!'' Ash fell into Will's shirt, and Will hugged her. Ash stopped crying and squared her shoulders, still wiping at her face.

''Well, goodbye, Ash.'' Will murmured.

''Bye, Will.'' She whispered. Marcus slid an arm around Will's shoulder and took him down the street. Will couldn't bring himself to look back at Ash, not knowing when, if ever he would see her again.


	5. Chapter 5: IDENTITIES

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**IDENTITIES**

It was as if a large weight had been dropped in to Will's stomach the minute he set off with his Godfather. It felt as though his stomach was an open wound and swirling around madly. Marcus put a hand around Will's shoulder and suddenly the weight was blissfully lifted off of him. He sighed deeply, grateful that he could now breathe properly. He also felt gloriously warm. For the first time ever an adult actually cared about him and was true to his word.

''You alright Will?'' Marcus asked him as they made their way to the London Underground.

''Yes sir. I'm fine but-''

''Now where do ya git off like that?'' Marcus asked roughly, stopping near a telephone booth and gripping his shoulder.

''Get off where sir?'' Will asked, utterly perplexed at the situation.

''Callin' me sir!'' Marcus spat. '' 'S if I'm some sorta royalty or somethin'!''

''I'm s-sorry.'' Said Will. He was feeling unnerved. When he lived with his biological parents he was brought up to treat them with the utmost respect and do whatever they asked of him.

''Call me Marcus.'' Marcus told him after some thought.

''Sure, but can I ask something?'' Will asked as they walked down the steps to the Underground.

''Ask away, dear boy.'' Marcus said, pulling off his cloak and folding it around his arm.

''Uh – forgive me, but you seemed much more – er – _smart_ up at the Sojourn place.'' Will said in a small voice. To his surprise, Marcus laughed heartily.

''Jus' a lit'le act I put on for prats like Ron Weasley.'' He admitted. ''But in reality I guess you can say I'm no more articulate than an insecure troll, I suppose.'' He added sheepishly.

''Got any Wizard clothes on ya?'' he asked, peering around his shoulder, a meticulous expression on his face.

''No, everything's in my trunk.'' Said Will, feeling happier than he ever had before in his eleven years.

''Good, because we are goin' on the London Underground.'' Said Marcus. ''An' I don't think Muggles would take kindly to a shabby set o' robes or a box full o' dragon liver.'' He laughed, shaking his head. ''Poor feeble-minded Susanne Dorbane.'' he added with a shake of his head. ''Not very bright in most fields of magic, you know Will.'' He gave him a subtle wink and then they were jostled in to the crowd of Muggles, and Will watched interestedly as Marcus peeled part a crumpled up batch of Pound notes and handled the Muggle money surprisingly well.

They sidled along the train to find a good seat. There weren't many people going where Marcus lived obviously as the only other occupants seemed to be an unshaven, overworked, peaky-looking man who was using a copy of _The Sun_ as a blanket and snoring sparingly.

Another occupant was a woman wearing a ridiculous frilly purple dress with an enormously floppy hat with a small grouping of fake grapes coiling around the brim. She was immersed in a romance novel and dabbing at her large green eyes with a lilac handkerchief at certain moments. Will thought she must be some sort of struggling actress as she wept openly and shouted in a haughty, Shakespearian voice- ''No! Benjamin! How could you leave Deborah! You were madly in love!'' at the most inopportune moments possible. Another occupant was a quiet boy, perhaps a few years older than Will himself, with an unruly black ponytail and blue eyes wearing a pair of jeans and an oversized dark red sweater emblazoned with a gold lion. He was reading a book entitled, _The Laws of Physics for Dummies_.

''Who's Susanne Dorbane?'' Will asked interested, eager to hear something light and airy about the world he came from, but was never really exposed to it. Marcus leaned forward, a smile on his face and dimples in his cheeks.

''Susanne Dorbane is a scatterbrained witch.'' Marcus began. ''She lived in Cardiff, went to Hogwarts, a few years younger than me. Her mind was sharp at Hogwarts. She got in to Ravenclaw- You know what Ravenclaw –'' Will nodded.

''Yeah, I was able to nick some of my mum's old books.'' He said.

''You look peaky.'' Marcus said suddenly, grabbing Will's face and examining it closely. ''They feed you there?''

''They did. They aren't that horrible. Only Ron and his nephew were. Hermione and Ash-'' he stopped. Thinking about Ash was painful for him.

''It's alrigh'. You two will see each other soon. She'll go to Hogwarts. An' ya aren't bad blood Will. You'll end up alrigh'.''

''Tell me more 'bout Susanne Dorbane.'' Will persisted eagerly.

''Sure. Well brilliant mind, Susanne. Then she had a little run-in with You-Know-Who-''

''Volde-''

''Shut up, Will!'' Marcus hissed. ''Don't you dare! Anyway-'' Marcus continued in an anguished whisper. ''-After her lit'le run-in, Susanne wasn't herself. Her brilliance was gone. She was a scatterbrained person who always forgot the bylaws and everything. Still does. Chatters on about the Ministry and Apparates everywhere, but Dumbledore – bless him – seemed to think she had a firm head on her shoulders and we can trust him.'' Marcus bowed his head out of respect. Will nodded. He knew about Dumbledore being murdered years previously, although his father and anyone else he questioned on such a matter didn't tell him anything.

''Why did You-Know-Who –'' Marcus put a finger to his lips.

''Not now, Will.'' He whispered. ''We'll talk more when we reach my house.''

The train lurched to a stop causing the aspiring actress to tumble off of her seat and reveal a mass of black curls flying around her peaky face that had, moments before, been concealed by the floppy hat and the teenager having to straighten his thick, black glasses.

''Mum-'' the teenager began in a whine.

''Well normal fifteen-year-olds do not read _The Laws of Physics for Dummies_ Tyler!'' she hissed at him.

''Well they're hard to do, mum!'' Tyler spat, aiding his mother back in to the seat.

''No, no, don't bother Tyler.'' The woman said, standing up. ''We need to be off now.'' The woman caught sight of Marcus and Will, her eyes boring into Will's, as if out of fear.

''C'mon, mum don't be dodgy.'' Tyler told her, laying a hand on her arm and hastily covering up the title of the book with his free-hand.

''But-'' the woman began.

''Mum, don't you have stew cooking?'' Tyler said crossly.

''I-'' the woman sputtered before her son had dragged her off the train.

Will looked at Marcus questionably, who just shook his head and slid an arm around his shoulders.

''Sometimes you cannot hide your true identities, Will. Remember that. 'Course you look just like your father, you know.'' Marcus said to him in a hushed voice as they walked off the train.

''I KNOW!'' Will found himself shout suddenly. ''AND I DON'T WANT TO BE REMINDED OF IT!''

''I understand.'' Said Marcus quietly. ''I know.''


	6. Chapter 6: THREE SIMPLE WORDS

**CHAPTER 6**

**THREE SIMPLE WORDS**

It was a quiet journey up the broken-down escalator of Buckingham Station and in to the thick London fog, that was tinged yellow. Marcus led Will along a maze of surprisingly deserted streets that lessened in upkeep as their walk progressed, Marcus holding Will tightly to his side. Will knew Marcus was preparing to Apparate at any moment.

''Where are we Mar-'' Will began, but Marcus put a finger to his lips, stopping suddenly near a Fish & Chip shop called The Royal Guard and looking up at an overcast sky, watching the sun become suffocated.

Suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, Will felt as if everything in his body was being compressed violently - as if someone wished nothing more than to suffocate him.

Next thing Will knew he was standing in front of what looked like a restored stone chicken coop. Aside from an unkempt garden, an uneven dirt walkway and an oak door that was dangling off of one hinge, the house looked wonderful to Will. 

Marcus spread one arm outward. ''Welcome home, Will.'' He said, smiling slightly. Will nodded.

''Thanks Marcus.'' Marcus' grip loosened on Will's arm and walked up to the door. No sooner had he placed his hand on the loose doorknob that it was yanked back; hard and rigid in its frame.

''Is that you Marcus?'' a voice called from behind the door. The voice seemed young and tarnished with worry – a woman's.

''Yes dear but a Death-Eater would say so too.'' Marcus said promptly as if this was well-rehearsed.

''Ask the question Ellen.'' He told her.

''Alright. What are the stones in my Wedding ring?'' she asked him.

''Sapphire dear.'' Marcus told her. ''Now, why did I decide to marry you?''

''Marcus this is foolish!'' Ellen said obviously embarrassed. ''Are-Are you sure no one's with you?'' she said rather worriedly.

''Yes.'' Said Marcus flatly. He winked at Will, in hopes of bringing up his spirit. ''Quite sure, dear.''

''Alright.'' Said Ellen, sighing. ''Because you said while proposing to me – 'Ellen Dauge, your love, your character, and your personality make you a much taller person.'''

''Correct.'' Said Marcus. Will was choking down a laugh as not to displease his Godfather's wife. The doorknob twisted and a kitchen turned inside-out met his eyes. Every cabinet was thrown open and dishes seemed disgruntled at the mess, there was a shrill tinkling sound as the dishes ruefully cleaned themselves in the sink. A small wooden table was in the center of the pandemonium and had a bunch of mismatched chairs arranged haphazardly around it.

''Marcus!'' said the same voice, only higher and more strained. ''You said you didn't have anyone with you – my word-'' she stopped as Will walked in after Marcus, shutting the door carefully behind him. Marcus walked over to a rather short woman, two heads shorter than him and one head shorter than Will. She had dark brown hair that reached to her elbows and pleasing hazel eyes in a kind, rosy face. She wore dark purple robes that seemed to fit her loosely. Marcus nodded at the woman before she had a chance to say more.

''Will, this is my wife, Ellen. Ellen, this is my Godson Will.'' Marcus said smoothly. Ellen smiled warmly at Will who gave a slight bow.

''Pleasure.'' Said Will shortly.

''Well!'' said Ellen cheerfully. ''Respectable Godson you have!'' she jabbed her wand at a pot in the precarious jumble near the sink – it flew in front of her. She stirred her wand tip feverishly within the pot and porridge poured from her wand tip.

''Want anything, Will, dear?'' Ellen asked, poking at the stove with her wand, igniting it. She placed the pot of porridge upon the flame and stirred it, humming an old Celestina Warbeck song.

''N-No Mrs. Flint I-I couldn't impose-'' Will mumbled.

''Dragon liver!'' she said, aghast, looking at Will. ''It's not imposing if I ask!''

''Sorry Miss.'' Will said. 

''No Miss. No Mrs. Flint, either, alright? Just Ellen.'' She poked at the stove with her wand-''Immobulus!'' she murmured, freezing the cooking of the porridge. She strode to Will and examined him critically. ''You look peaky Will.'' She said simply after five adjustments of his head.

''So will it be maple sugar or treacle fudge?'' she asked brightly, resuming her cooking.

''Treacle fudge, dear.'' Said Marcus curtly, draping his cloak over a purely wooden chair.

''I was talking to Will.'' Ellen said somewhat scathingly. ''Now go change. You look ten times fatter in Muggle clothing.'' Marcus looked down hastily and then strode briskly down a hallway.

''Now, what'll it be, Will?'' Ellen asked, smiling. Will shook his head.

''No!'' Ellen said. ''You are going to eat some breakfast! Even if I have to feed you myself!'' she said rebelliously. Will gave a small smile, but still didn't say what his preference of sugar or fudge would be.

''Try treacle fudge.'' Said Marcus, Apparating next to the table and combing his wet, straggly hair. ''Ellen has a special ingredient.'' He told him as she laid a bowl of porridge in front of Marcus and pecked his cheek.

''It's cinnamon.'' Ellen whispered childishly, laying a bowl of porridge in front of Will, who though hungry, waited until Ellen was seated with her porridge. ''My mother taught me and her mother before her. I say I think that is what won Marcus over.'' She said, smiling at Will who was already half done with his own bowl. He had never tasted anything so filling in his memory.

''Nonsense.'' Said Marcus, waving his spoon-free hand, and eating a spoonful of porridge. ''You were just perfect, Ellen. Which is why I asked you to marry me, at eighteen.'' A dull blush crept into Ellen's cheeks.

''Now Marcus, I assure you, I'm nowhere near perfect-''

''-And I assure you, to me you are Ellen. You did not win me over with your fudge. You didn't have to cook till we were eighteen and out of Hogwarts! It was your spirit and your looks, Ellen.'' He smiled at Ellen, who ducked and continued to eat her porridge, her cheeks rogue with flattery.

Will ate his porridge in silence. He hadn't heard his own parents flatter each other so lavishly nor had he ever heard his father tell Pansy he loved her. Will felt warm. He greatly enjoyed being with a loving couple who made their adoration for each other so obvious. It was a big change from his manor life, but Will felt more at home, there, sitting with Ellen and his Godfather, eating warm, filling food than he ever had before. 

The rest of the day, Will felt as if he was walking upon a cloud, miles away from what he knew at Salazar's to a new beginning of a life of bliss, happiness, and for the first time in eleven years, love. He remembered every hot, delicious spoonful of the chicken soup Ellen had made for lunch. He remembered every moment of Marcus fuming about the newspaper, and loved ever minute of the sour words he had to spit about the news and how the majority of the Daily Prophet staff had the brains of gnomes. He remembered, that at three, Marcus told Ellen he loved her and kissed her forehead. His parents never did that. In fact, Will was sure the only body they had ever kissed was the body of Lord Voldemort.

It was seven in the evening now and Ellen was spooning meatballs onto a plate in front of Will, Marcus engaged him into a comical conversation about women, as Ellen moved gracefully around the table, placing more meatballs onto the plates each time.

''-And so Will, women are creatures of vast complexity that us men will never understand, no matter how many books a Muggle or Wizard writes about it.'' Marcus explained. 

''But, then if women are as complex as you say they are Marcus, how come you and Ellen are-''

''-Perfect for each other?'' said Ellen, chuckling softly and rapping the ladle on her husband's head.

''Yeah.'' Said Will eagerly. ''How come?''

''Well, people are different, Will.'' Said Marcus, after some thought. ''Ellen and I, we believe that a couple should love and cherish each other.'' He held Ellen's hand that suddenly grabbed on to the back of his chair. Tears were in her soft eyes.

''We know your views on the matter may be contorted but-'' Marcus began.

''-But that doesn't matter!'' Ellen practically screamed, tears rolling down her cheeks. ''Because you are with us now, Will.'' She whispered, anguished, gulping sobs.

''Ellen, it's alright…'' Marcus soothed, patting his wife's hands. 

''Ellen-'' said Will, getting off of his seat and placing his hands upon her shaking shoulders, ''-I'm okay. I really am. So, don't worry about me. I-I'm really not worth it.'' 

''Don't say that!'' Will stared up and saw that Marcus was looking lividly down upon Will's body. ''Don't you ever say that!'' Will shrank to his knees. He coiled up, and shielded his head, best as he could. After a few moments, Will rose his head.

''You want me to cry, Marcus?'' he said feebly.

''What?''' Marcus asked, helping Will to his feet, Ellen, looking fearfully upon Will, childlike. ''Wh-what are you saying?''

''I'm asking if you want me to cry as you hit me.'' Will said.

''You're what? Just who the hell taught you to-''

''My father.'' Said Will disgustedly.

''He hit-'' Ellen said fearfully.   
''Yeah, he did.'' Will admitted. ''He did it after he shouted every time, whether it concerned me or not.''

''Oh Lord-'' Ellen said, her fingers trembling. ''I- well good night.'' Without even kissing her husband, Ellen ran down the same hallway Marcus had walked down earlier that day.

''Is that complex?'' Will asked. ''I mean, she didn't even kiss you.''

''Well, to anyone who's only known Ellen, a short time like you, Will, it would be considered complex, but to me, her husband, no. Ellen is just frightened is all. She fears for your safety. Always has.'' Marcus explained.

''What are you talking about?'' Will asked. ''She knew me as long as I've known her. We met just this morning.''

''I'll explain once you're in bed. Think of it as a bedtime story.'' Said Marcus, ruffling Will's hair. ''Now-'' Marcus paused and a long, gray T-shirt and gray checkered flannel pants appeared in the floral-print chair at the table. ''-Change in to those and then I'll show you to your bedroom.''

Once curled underneath a warm, soft blanket in a clean, polished, dark-wood bed-frame that rested below a fully intact window, Will was overcome by sudden drowsiness; he never felt this soft, sweet drowsiness at his old house. The drowsiness there was cold and sharp. It poked at his person like daggers, but this drowsiness was like sinking into a warm bath. Marcus, wearing a woebegone dark blue nightshirt was sitting at the end of his bed.

''Don't go to sleep yet, Will.'' Said Marcus warmly. ''Don't you want your story?'' 

''Yes.'' Will said, sounding like a six-year-old. 

''Well, alright. I'll tell you-'' Marcus paused. ''Eleven years ago, surprisingly, your parents baptized you. It was a quiet, unpublicized ceremony. The baptism was done by an old man by the name of Joseph Zabini. As you know, your parents made me your Godfather. I had of course, married Ellen before your parents married each other and when she heard Pansy was in labor, giving birth alone for some unknown reason, she ran to her aid. Turns out, after 'bout a day, you came out. You were breach, which explained why on Earth you took so damn long.'' Both Will and Marcus laughed at this. ''After you came out, Pansy was admitted to St. Mungo's because of persistent pains. Turns out, Pansy was violently ill, with what the Healers never found out-''

''That woman deserved it.'' Will said under his breath.

''I'm not saying anything, Will. I favored your mother, much more than your father as a person, not saying I agreed with Pansy's views on things, it's just your father was a coward. Was given the opportunity to have glory and power and prestige, granted to him by Voldemort when he was sixteen, but turned out, he was too much of a coward, so Severus Snape took up his opportunity. After that happened, Snape was thrown into Azkaban, and hasn't been heard from since. Most think he's been dead for years. Anyway, even after your mum was admitted to St. Mungo's, your father still didn't show up. He finally came back, 'bout a week after you were born. Ellen and I stayed with your mother until Draco came to her. When Draco arrived, her pains lessened considerably, but Ellen confided in me that she was worried for you. She was worried that your birth, Draco's return, and the pains were connected in some way. When, they were cleared to go back to Salazar's Hollow, we went our separate way to London, here. Since then, Ellen has been worried sick about you. She fears your parents, and now that you broke free of your parents' lives she still worries for you.'' Marcus told him.

''But I don't understand-'' Will said, pushing himself up on his pillows. ''Why is she still worried? I'm here. With you two now.''

''She always had had a soft spot for you, Will. Secretly, she's wanted to take you from Salazar's all this time, but it never happened. She and I both knew, we'd be killed if we tried.'' Marcus told him. Will yawned. Marcus laughed softly.

''There you are.'' He rose from the bed. ''Now get some sleep. You've had quite the day, William.'' Will rolled over, clutching the blankets around his bag-of-bones body and was asleep within seconds. Marcus bent over Will's body and kissed his forehead. ''Good night Will. I love you.'' He whispered. He turned around and was just about to turn out the lights when Will opened his eyes and looked at Marcus. 

''What?'' he said, aghast.

''I said 'Good night Will. I love you.' '' Marcus repeated.

''You love-'' Will gasped, his throat swelling.

''Yes.'' Said Marcus, backtracking to Will's bedside.

''I love you too.'' Will murmured, the new words felt strange, but soft upon his tongue. Will wrapped his arms around Marcus' shoulders. Marcus smiled and ruffled Will's hair again.

''Now get some sleep, Will.'' Marcus turned around and was at the door, about to close it and go to his wife when Will's voice came out of the darkness, his doll-like body silhouetted against the soft, dull moonlight that came through the net curtains.

''Marcus?'' he asked.

''Yeah, Will?''

''Can I call you Dad and Ellen, Mum?'' he asked timidly.

''Of course.'' Said Marcus immediately. ''Good night, son.'' 

''Good night, Dad.'' Will murmured. Marcus smiled through the darkness and closed the door.


	7. Chapter 7: DRACO MALFOY'S PLEA

**CHAPTER 7**

**DRACO MALFOY'S PLEA**

It seemed as if Will had just curled up in his blankets when early-morning sunlight burned his eyes. He motioned to pull the blankets over his head, mumbling nonsense, but there was just air to grab.

''OY!'' A voice yelled. He felt his ear grow hot and he finally, but blearily opened his silver eyes. Looking down at him was a familiar, curly-haired someone.

''ASH!'' Will yelled, leaping out of bed and hugging her.

''WILL!'' she screamed, hugging him back.

''Oh God!'' Will gasped. ''How did you-?''

''It's sort of complicated.'' Said Ash, sitting down next to Will.

''Try me.'' Said Will, hopelessly smoothing back his bed-hair.

''No.'' said Marcus at once. His hair was already neatly combed and he was already dressed in dark red robes. ''Morning.'' He said, genuinely to Will.

''Morning dad.'' Will said. ''Why can't she-''

''She can tell you.'' Marcus said. ''Just over breakfast.'' He smiled then walked off. The two of them followed Marcus to the kitchen.

Ellen was sitting beside Marcus and a man with a heavily scarred face and long, red hair he had pulled back into a ponytail who was chewing on what looked like a raw chicken leg was sitting beside him. Will stared worriedly. Was Ellen ill? Who was that man?

''Mum!'' Will practically screamed. ''Are you-''

''Yes, yes, dear, I'm fine.'' Said Ellen, with a yawn. She smiled at him and he and Ash took seats opposite them.

''Will, this is Bill Weasley.'' Marcus introduced. Will looked up as did the man who was savoring the raw meat. Bill reached a large hand across the table and Will shook it.

''Are you-'' Will began.

''Yes, I am.'' Bill said. ''I am Ron Weasley's brother. And now, for the first time in my life I have to say I'm ashamed to admit it.''

''You have sympathy for me, already, Mr. Weasley?'' Will asked, astonished.

''Of course 'e does!'' said a woman with a heavy French accent. Will looked up to see the most beautiful woman looking back at him. It seemed all the air had been sucked from his body. She had silvery-blonde hair that fanned gracefully with no wind and large, beautiful blue eyes. Her skin shone moon-bright. ''My Bill iz a great 'onorable man! He 'as seempathy for everyone zat deserves eet!'' she came out from behind the kitchen counter and Will discovered that she was large with child, however her beauty wasn't affected by pregnancy.

''Will.'' Said Bill, smiling, as his woman kissed him on the cheek. ''This is my wife, Fleur.''

''Pleasure to meet you.'' Will grinned stupidly and was jolted back to reality by a hard kick in the shins. He didn't acknowledge it.

''So-'' said Ellen, casually as she spooned eggs onto her plate. ''-What brings you both and Belisandra here?'' she asked.

''Who's Belis-'' Will began, but he needn't an explanation. At that moment a girl with long hair, blue eyes, and moon-bright skin just like her mother dashed into the room. Although, she didn't have blonde hair, hers was fiery red, however she still looked as stunningly pretty as her mother. At a quick glance, she was about the same age as Will and Ash, but dressed in what seemed, for a twisted burial of a dark, dank freaky, rock star. She wore a long, floor-length black skirt, a bright green full-fishnet shirt and over that an artfully ripped up black-jean jacket with countless chokers and bangles, her long fiery red hair was pulled back in to two circular pigtails that fanned out like palm-trees. The fishnet shirt read MAJIK in scraggly, bloody black letters. She was ashen-faced and carrying what looked to be half-a-rubber chicken.

''Belisandra!'' Fleur cried, scandalized. Will couldn't blame her. She contrasted greatly with everyone in that room.

''Don't shout, amour.'' said Bill. ''It will only exist to upset the babies.''

''Oui.'' said Fleur, sitting down next to an empty chair.

''Belisandra! What on Earth are you-?'' Bill began heatedly. Then he paused. ''No! You didn't try to-'' the young girl skidded to a halt.

''-T-try to re-re-do Uncle George's joke stuff? Yeah, I did.'' She said, her voice was a pleasing mixture of French and English accent.

''But Uncle George specially told you not to!'' said Bill, pulling out a chair for his daughter. (Apparently this fashion was typical for Belisandra).

''But since when did George start abiding by the Rules? God, you both-'' she looked at her mother who was patting her swollen belly. ''-said I was most like George! Not Per-''

''All is forgotten!'' said Bill, briskly, piling eggs onto Belisandra's plate. Belisandra smiled and poured herself some orange juice, then looked at Will curiously.

''Ash, you never told me who he is.'' Beliandra said keenly, tapping her fork lightly on the plate as the adults engaged themselves in a conversation concerning the Ministry of Magic and some extremely intelligent Nifflers, who supposedly could speak Russian. Ash swallowed a forkful of eggs and nodded.

''Yeah, Sandra, this is Will Malfoy. Will, this is my cousin, Sandra.'' Ash introduced.

''Malfoy?'' Sandra asked, scooting up on her seat. ''You're Draco's son, right?''

''Not son.'' Will said coldly. ''His offspring.''

''So you hate him?'' Belisandra leered at Will.

''Course I hate him!'' Will whispered in anguish. ''I hate ever bone in his body!''

''That's good!'' said Sandra. ''Can I insult him?'' Will nodded, a smile curving on his mouth; Ash the same way. Sandra began a spew of words she wouldn't dare speak of in her parents' company. Of course she had forgotten, that Bill and Fleur were both sitting at the same table and to stop the flow of insults (no matter how accurate Will thought them to be) Bill compensated by stuffing large forkfuls of egg into his daughter's mouth.

''Ash, you still haven't told me what you're doing here.'' Said Will, after several minutes of strained silence. That and about a million other unanswered questions swirled around in his head.

''I believe all of us can explain it to a point.'' said Bill, curtly, taking a bite out of the raw meat again. ''You see- when my brother, Fred was murdered, by Draco, Fred's eldest boy, Geoffrey took his little sister and himself to Sojourn & Colks – to Geoff's favorite Uncle in particular, Uncle Ron. For nine years, Ron lived as if Geoff and Ash were birthed children, from his wife, Hermione. Then, last night, I was over for a chat with my brother. Fleur wanted a rest, so I took Belisandra with me. It was then, I discovered, by a distressed sister-in-law, Fred's real Will, and the fake Will of Fred. Ron had been living by the fake Will, which dictated that _'Geoffrey and Ashley be left under the care of Ron and Hermione Weasley',_ whereas the real Will said, _'May my children, Geoffrey and Ashley be left under the care of Bill and Fleur Weasley'._ It was then, that Geoffrey had a row with me. He said he wished to stay with Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. He said that his Father's wishes did not matter to him and I allowed him to stay with them. He seemed to favor Ron over me anyhow. But Ash wanted to come with us. The separation from his sister has been crushing on Geoffrey, but Ash feels as if she's been liberated. Now, me and Fleur are Ash's guardians, but after we took Ash from Sojourn & Colks we were invited by an old friend, Marcus Flint to have breakfast. After he explained about you, Will, Ash just had to come see you. She was having kittens about him ever since he left, she told me.'' Bill explained, taking a sip of his coffee. Ash blushed.

''Uncle Bill!'' she said, embarrassed.

''Don't you 'Uncle Bill' me, Ash!'' Bill said playfully. Every laughed except Ellen; whose laughter would have reverberated off the walls. Instead, she paid no attention to Bill and was sifting through a small china cup. An irritated sigh escaped her lips.

''Marcus.'' She said, putting an emphasis on the 'cus' of his name. ''I told you to buy more last week.'' Marcus pinked and dropped his fork.

''I know, dear.'' Marcus quavered, watching his wife swell up with annoyance like a balloon. ''Bu-But the Phoenix Feathers were reasonable priced-''

''Phoenix Feathers!'' Ellen screeched, her eyes growing smaller with rage. ''You purchased those with our Galleons!''

''Now, now Ellen.'' Said Bill standing up to the aide of Marcus. ''Phoenix Feathers are quite lucky and extremely valuable-''

''Phoenix Feathers – real – yes, but the pawns in Diagon Alley sold by peddlers and in their shops – I think not!'' Ellen said, flaring up at Bill. ''The only pure Phoenix Feathers ever to be put into Diagon Alley were those of Ollivander! Even Warren Zabe's aren't as valuable! And he's been the wand-maker since Ollivander disappeared over a decade ago!'' she burst out.

''Now, Floo Powder is something we all need!'' she continued, leering at the two frozen men. Fleur could only bring herself to nod as her back was being particularly devilish. The three children just looked on in amusement. ''Nobody bothers watching the Floo Network anymore! Not since its Department was destroyed. So, Floo Powder is ultimately one of the safest ways to travel!''

''Oh don't get your knickers in knot, Ellen!'' said Marcus, standing up. ''I've got a few extra Galleons to my name, I'll buy some today! We should go to Diagon Alley today anyway. They are supposed to go ff to school in two days.''

''Good!'' said Ellen, she rounded on the children who all shrank closer together for fear of her rage. ''Do you all have your book lists?'' she asked, her tone kind once more.

''Yeah.'' Said Will. ''It's in my bedroom, mum.''

''Uncle Bills has ours, Mrs. Flint.'' Said Ash. Ellen rounded on Bill who presented her with two pieces of yellowish parchment as Will ran down the hallway, coming back dressed in a clean, gray T-shirt and a pair of extremely baggy blue jeans, clutching a piece of yellowish parchment. Ellen nodded then Marcus turned and directed his wand at the empty fireplace.

_''Incendio!''_ Instantly the fireplace roared with life. Ellen gave Fleur a pinch of Floo Powder first, seeing as she would be the most difficult as she was carrying a child. Fleur disappeared in a whirl of green flame after a heavily accented – ''Die-egg-on Azee!'', Bill shouting ''Diagon Alley'' just before Fleur entered the hearth.

Will was given a pinch next and Ellen was hissing tips to him.

''Don't stutter, dear! You might end up somewhere in Vietnam for all we know!'' She told him, Will's trainers now touching the stone of the hearth, his hand poised to throw the powder into the flames.

''Or Tunisia. Remember Samuel Brigham?'' Marcus asked.

''Well Susanne Dorbane got 'erself in a few tight spots.'' Bill pointed out. ''Poor women ends up in Estonia when simply meaning to go to her mum's house, and in Belgium when meaning to just stop by St. Mungo's!''

With that Will threw the powder into the flames and shouted-

''DIAGON ALLEY!'' He disappeared in a whirl of green flames and felt as if he was being thrashed against other Wizarding fireplaces. He kept his eyes tightly shut, the whirling made him feel sick, and then he was thrown rather harshly onto the hearth of a quite empty Leaky Cauldron.

Fleur pulled him to his feet and beat the soot off his clothes gently and kissed his stinging nose. Then she pulled him roughly away from the hearth as Sandra slid out from the hearth and onto the floor, Fleur pulled her up and then dragged her to the side, beating the soot off of her daughter's clothes as well. Then Bill came, holding Ash's hand tightly and fussing over the soot. Ellen and Marcus came, both of them ashen-faced.

They all stumbled ungainly to their feet. Fleur mumbled something to Bill about feeling light-headed. Bill patted her arm. Will looked at the pub. It looked as if it had been forgotten. As if not many people stopped in for a firewhiskey or White Russian. They just went passed it all to go to Diagon Alley. The tables were slightly lopsided and everything wasn't very well-kept. Dim candlelight softly illuminated the pub.

''Come on dear.'' Said Bill warmly. ''You three don't mind shopping in Diagon Alley by yourselves, you do?'' he asked them.

''No.'' Sandra said instantly, Marcus have Bill a reproving look, but Bill held up in free hand.

''Marcus, don't worry. They'll be alright.'' Bill said, comfortingly.

''Fine.'' Marcus sighed. ''But I'm getting them to Diagon Alley.'' He held his wand aloft and the innkeeper, a large, heavyset man with dark hair and thick eyebrows looked up at him, his milky eyes illuminated by the soft candlelight.

'' 'Ello Marcus.'' The man said in a gravely, deep voice, revealing a few crooked teeth. ''A firewhiskey on the house, then?'' he asked, bending down and retrieving a tall glass from the shelf.

''No Frey.'' Said Marcus. ''I'd love to, but I've other matters of business to tend to.''

''Aye.'' Frey said heavily. He looked at everyone, but then quickly looked again, staring at Will.

''Marcus!'' he gasped softly. ''Good Lord… How did you – Why on Earth did you-''

''I didn't do anything, Frey.'' Marcus told him. ''He-'' Frey walked out from behind the ancient counters and looked down at Will, gripping his hands. Will looked back at him; his gaze hard and unmoving.

''Will-'' he said hoarsely. ''Good Lord…. Marcus-'' he looked up at him hungrily.  
''-Have you seen these?''

''Seen what?'' Marcus asked. Frey walked back behind the counters and retrieved a thick scroll of aging parchment. He unrolled it hurriedly and Marcus stared. Bill and Ellen grabbed one end of the parchment, Marcus holding on to the other.

''That bastard.'' Marcus said, quietly. ''Good Lord!''

''What?'' Will asked fearfully. Marcus shifted his elbow to give Will the parchment.

''NO!'' Ellen shouted, scandalized. ''PLEASE! MARCUS! NO! DON'T GIVE HIM IT!''

''He has the right to know Ellen!'' Marcus said rashly to his sobbing wife, putting an arm around her. ''You can't protect him forever Ellen. No matter how badly you want to!'' he argued.

''HE'S YOUR GODSON!'' Ellen yelled. ''YOU CAN PROTECT HIM FOR HOWEVER LONG YOU WANT!'' Marcus ignored his wife and handed Will the parchment. Frey led Marcus and Ellen to the bar, insisting that they have a drink, and Bill was sitting with Fleur. Ash and Sandra bunched closer to Will and read the parchment:

_**WILLIAM LUCIUS MALFOY  
20 THOUSAND GALLEON PRICE  
ON RETURN  
WHETHER IT BE A BEATING HEART  
OR A LIFELESS BODY  
BY WISHES OF DRACO MALFOY**_

Below it displayed a black and white photograph of Will, staring starved back at them.

Will shook his head and swallowed hard.

''He wants me dead or he wants to kill me.'' Will said, his voice breaking like ice. ''That's all.''

''Do you think-'' Ash began.

''No.'' said Sandra at once. ''No one we know would be that thick, Ash. Marcus wouldn't do it. He wants what's best for you, I mean really, right?''

''Course he does.'' Said Will. ''My father wants to kill me. Ever since I refused to abide by the Society I was born in to.''

''You did?'' Sandra asked, shocked. Will nodded.

''And now, he wants to kill me.'' Said Will. ''He wants to kill me.''


	8. Chapter 8: HIS SON

**Chapter 8**

**HIS SON**

Will was numb. He felt like a marionette and nobody spoke a word to him. The thin line of fantasy and reality blurred before his eyes. Every touch no matter how subtle was like fire to his bones. Marcus put a hand on Will's shoulder and Will yelped shortly. Ellen threw Marcus a reproving look, pursing her lips as she sipped her on-the-house sherry from Warrington. (Marcus' and hers dispute hadn't been resolved in the slightest so she was staying back and keeping Warrington company, occasionally twirling her finger in the now empty china pot of Floo Powder).

''See?'' she said, exasperated to her husband, slamming her sherry down hard. ''You've frightened the boy right out of his pants for all we know! Letting him see it! Marcus I'd have thought you had sense-''

''I do have perfect sense, Ellen.'' Said Marcus bitterly, his hand about to grasp his wand from inside his robes. ''You cannot protect him forever, you know.'' Ellen didn't answer she just sipped her sherry as if Marcus hadn't even spoken.

''We'll meet you back here, then?'' he asked her.

''You should.'' Said Ellen, placing three Sickles on the counter for another sherry.

''Fine.'' Said Marcus stiffly. ''We'll talk later.''

''And don't you dare tell him about Sussa-'' Ellen pressed.

''I haven't!'' Marcus yelled. ''Now, unless you're coming with us keep your mouth shut!'' he turned around sharply and tapped the necessary bricks which immediately began to turn this way and that to reveal an opening outwards to a cobblestone street.

If a person was to leave Diagon Alley twenty years ago and return on the day this collection of people had parted the bricks, their blood would run cold. Gone were the bright, sunny shops and cheery atmosphere. Now, remains of shops lined the streets, and no sun permeated Diagon Alley. Some shops had been desperately reconstructed in an attempt to still support families, but all attempts were dashed. Thick fog enveloped the place and there numerous call-outs made by Wizard bums who lined the street, hopelessly trying to earn a Knut.

''Wow.'' Will heard Sandra whisper.

''We'll meet you all back at the Leaky Cauldron, no excuses.'' Said Bill. ''Marcus and Ellen need to – er – patch things up a bit-''

''We do not, Bill.'' Marcus said stiffly. ''Ellen just treats Will like a child.''

''Marcus, the boy's only eleven years old!'' Bill retorted.

''He has dealt with as much as any of us here.'' Marcus said wisely.

''Fine.'' Bill said, jangling the gold in his pockets purposely. ''I'll buy you a drink.'' Marcus nodded, recognizing defeat and followed Bill and Fleur, who for some reason was crying silently back to the Leaky Cauldron.

The three young wizards stood stock-still. Afraid, it seemed to take even a step on the shattered grounds of Diagon Alley. They were all scared out of their minds, the blank, expressionless eyes of the impoverished people of a once thriving place bore into their skin.

''Git along then!'' an oily voice boomed. Will jumped out of his skin and spun around.

''No, you mindless minger.'' The voice said. ''Down 'ere.'' Will looked down to see an unshaven man with a slightly husky, yet unhealthy look about him wearing shabby light brown robes sitting against the remains of a shop and holding up a sign in one hand that proclaimed – _FLOURISH & BLOTT'S_ in scraggly lettering.

''Oh. Sorry.'' Said Will, slightly embarrassed.

''Ar don't be, ya silly little bloke. I 'spose you and these two lovely, little birds'll be needin' books then?'' the man asked, gesturing at the sign with a scarred hand. Will nodded and went to hand the man the booklist, but the man held up his scarred hand and shook it, and smiling sadly revealing yellow teeth.

''I'm truly sorry all.'' He said, leaning back on the remains of the shop and sighing. ''But I'm 'fraid I've no books ta be sellin' ya.''

''Then what are we supposed to do?'' Ash asked, slightly miffed.

'' That school, Hogwarts 'as books for ya, miss. No need ta be worryin' . It's pretty much the same wiv every store here, 'cept for Zabes – the wand-maker.'' The man explained, motioning with his hands as if he were telling a story. ''Ever since the War burst through here see….'' His voice trailed off and the man sniffed. ''My 'pologies.'' He sniffed again. ''But I lost my wife and son in that raid…'' he bowed his head. ''Oh, look at me…'' the man said empathically. ''I-I shouldn't be tellin'… All of ya, git on wiv your shoppin' see, or wand-shoppin' really…'' Will stepped forward.

''Are you sure, sir?'' he asked.

''Yes.'' Said the man. ''Very sure. I'm not lettin' children make a mockery of education like I did.'' He waved them off.

''Well…'' said Sandra softly. ''It was nice meeting you sir…''

''Likewise.'' The man said, giving them a small smile. ''Now, you all git along there.''

The three of them turned on their heels, not even bothering to stop in and ask at the other shops as they were all shaking their heads and pointing at signs that read: SUPPLIES AVAILABLE AT HOGWARTS in varying degrees of shabby handwriting. No one was even at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, it looked as if a landmine had exploded in it.

''Did you hear from your Uncle George at all?'' Will asked Ash and Sandra as they neared the wand shop.

''No. Not since –well-'' Sandra fumbled.

''You can say it!'' said Ash roughly. ''Since my mum and dad were murdered.'' No one said a word.

''C'mon.'' said Sandra suddenly, pointing at the only intact building in Diagon Alley. It read: ZABES, Maker of Fine Wands Since 380 B.C.

They walked into the shop, immediately under the impression they had walked into an endless library. All the shelves stretched up to the ceiling. Suddenly a withering young man swept down upon them. He had sandy hand and milky pale skin, but huge blue eyes.

''Mr. Malfoy, eh?'' the man said mysteriously, grasping his hands, and acting as if Ash and Sandra were parts of the wall. Will nodded.

''Pity.'' The man said, spitting through his teeth. ''Boy had good potential, mark these words, but bad blood consumed him. Bit of a coward, really…''

''I know, sir.'' Said Will coldly. The man gave a deep sigh a he pulled out a bronze measuring tape which immediately gave Will strange sensations as it measured nostril-to-nostril and the length of his hair, eyes, and ear lobes.

''Name's Warren Zabes.'' The man said. ''What's your wand-hand, boy?''

''Right.'' said Will automatically. Immediately Zabes shoved a wand into Will's hand.

''What is-''

''That's oak.'' Said Warren promptly. ''Unicorn tail hair core, about fourteen inches.''

Will waved it but somehow it sent Ash flying halfway across the room and crashing into a lantern.

''OW!'' she said roughly, standing up and brushing off her dark blue sweater. ''What on Earth are you doing, Will?'' she said furiously.

''I don't have control over it Ash!'' Will yelled. ''I'm sorry!'' Zabes took the wand from Will.

''The both of you, out.'' He said firmly. ''You two girls.''

''But-'' Ash sputtered furiously.

''Don't get your bloomers in a bunch.'' Zabes snapped.

''But-but-'' Ash snapped, Sandra heaving her cousin out of the shop with immense difficulty. ''We-we need wands too Mr. Zabes!''

''We'll get them Ash!'' Sandra yelled at her cousin. Ash continued to curse at the injustice of the situation and refused to move from peering into the window.

''Now.'' Said Zabes, walked stooped toward Will, clasping his veined hands together. ''You know why you're here, don't you, boy?'' he asked.

''To get a wand.'' Said Will, waveringly.

''Yes, yes.'' Zabes said impatiently, as if the entire prospect of a wand seemed absolutely pointless to a wizards' magical education throughout Hogwarts. ''But- do you know why-'' Warren paused as he saw Ash's big, blue eyes peering through the window and slapping at Sandra's forearm to keep her from tugging her away. He waved his wand rather effortlessly and Will could no longer see Ash's nosy little face as the windows had blackened themselves.

''-Why you're here, William?'' he asked.

''To get school stuff.'' said Will plainly as if the answer was quite obvious despite what the war had done.

''No! No!'' said Zabes impatiently. ''My dear, dear boy.'' He said, his voice cracking with age. ''My dear, dear boy…. You, you're the son of the most feared Death-Eater since Bellatrix Lestrange!''

''I wouldn't like to-'' Will began furiously.

''I'm not done!'' said Zabes angrily. ''You! _William Lucius Malfoy!_ Malfoy! William! _Malfoy!_ Keep this is mind Will.'' Zabes looked at Will closely, clutching his hands, their faces barely an inch apart.

''Your choices are what sculpts you William. Nothing else.'' Zabes whispered.

''Sir-'' said Will nervously. ''What about my wand?''

''Oh, your wand became apparent to me soon after you were born.'' said Zabes wisely. He retreated to the shadows and soon came out with a slightly dusty box, slowly taking off the top. Inside lay a long, thin, semi-dark wand. Will took it out and felt his hand enclose around it.

''What is it?'' Will asked breathlessly.

''Holly.'' Said Zabes, limping. Will saw by the dim lantern light he was using a cane. ''Dragonheartstring, thirteen inches. Dragonheartstring. Peculiar it chose you at such a young age.''

''Why sir?'' Will asked, handing six Galleons to Zabes.

''Because, that's Dragonheartstring, the very core your father had.'' Zabes whispered.

''Now go on Willliam.'' Will, his blood running cold walked to the door and was about to open it when Zabes said:

''And William, remember.'' He told him holding up a withered hand.

It took no less than a half-an-hour to get Ash and Sandra their wands. Sandra's was Cherry, Phoenix Feather, and about nine inches. Ash's was Unicorn hair, Beachwood, and around eleven inches. However the amount of time it took disappointed Ash greatly.

''Why did he only take a half-an-hour with us?'' she said furiously. ''I mean he took an hour with you, Will!''

''Well be happy!'' Sandra said furiously. ''Zabes seemed weird to me.''

''Well what did you two talk about in there Will?'' said Ash snidely. ''Did he serve you tea and buttered crumpets?'' she said waspishly.

''I'd rather not talk about it.'' Said Will quietly.

''It's some super, important advanced spell, isn't it?'' said Ash madly. ''Like the Patronus Charm or something?''

''Ash!'' said Sandra, irritated. ''He told you he'd rather not say so for the love of Dumbledore don't crush him!''

'' 'Ello again.'' Said the man from Flourish and Blott's. He hadn't moved from his spot.

''Oh, hello.'' said Will, stopping.

''Shoppin' went well?'' he asked.

''Yes.'' said Will, apprehensively. ''Very well.''

''Well, you all have a good term.'' said the man, giving them a short wave with his scarred hand. Sandra and Will offered the man encouraging smiles, Ash just stalked off.

''Wait.'' The man called out. Will turned around.

''Yes sir?'' he asked.

''You Malfoy's son?'' he asked, breathlessly.

''Yes sir.'' said Will.

''Really now…'' the man said, standing up and grasping his hands. ''You are then. I heard Malfoy had a son, but 'e never bothered to say anything ta me. You look exactly like 'im, I wonder why I didn't see it before.''

''Did you know him, sir?'' Will asked curiously

_''Know him!''_ said the man disgustedly. ''I'm sorry ta say I turned inta a girl for him on countless occasions!''

''He made you turn in to a-'' Will said slowly.

''Yes, yes.'' Said the man airily. ''But I'd rather not talk about it.'' Sandra went in to a fit of hysterics, clutching her sides and laughing.

''Anyway.'' Said the man once Sandra had recovered. ''Name's Vincent Crabbe.'' He shook hands with both of them. ''You're William, right?''

''Yes sir.'' He nodded. ''And she's Sandra Weasley.'' Vincent shook hands with Sandra.

''Weasley?'' he said. ''I used to have a thing for your Auntie, but I never had the courage ta say anything. Now, don't be worryin' anybody.'' Vincent told them, offering them a small smile. ''Nice meetin' you both.''

''Pleasure.'' Said Will and Sandra in unison.

''And Will-'' Vincent told him. ''Don't be like your father. From what I know of ya, you may be related to him, but you aren't his son. Don't be a coward, understand?''

''Yes sir. Thank you.'' Will turned on his heel and ran after Ash back to the Leaky Cauldron.


	9. Chapter 9: THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS

**Chapter 9**

**THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS**

The last few days of the holiday, no one really spoke with Ash who was hidden behind a secondhand copy of her Uncle Bill's The _Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_, having becoming reclusive since the trip to Diagon Alley.

Will and Sandra teased the Doxies that infested the pitiful curtains of his Godfather's home and engaged in fruitful jokes of Muggle 'magicians'. Sandra found a skittish rat that was crawling around in the bedroom she now regretfully shared with Ash that she named, Kneaz. Ash found their antics to be trivial and utterly pointless. It was not coupled with her immense dislike of rats. Marcus and Ellen had repaired their relationship while the children were shopping in Diagon Alley and were now the couple Will loved so dearly.

On the day the Hogwarts Express was due to depart at eleven o'clock Bill and Marcus had gotten everyone out of bed and shoved a bowl of oatmeal each down the throats of Will, Sandra, and Ash who was now engrossed in Magical Drafts And Potions by Arsenius Jigger ate her oatmeal while poring over the volume. Bill (who was by far, the most Muggle-oriented person in the house) called in for two Muggle taxis to take them to King's Cross. Fleur was staying behind because she was very tired, telling Bill to come back later for her. Ellen was also staying to tend to Fleur.

The minute the Muggle taxis had pulled up to the Flint's apartment, the heavens opened and rain soaked them all. The taxi drivers didn't have much of a complaint except the peculiar fashion of Marcus and Bill who were trying desperately to look like Muggles, but failing quite humorously.

Marcus wore a pair of baggy jeans that were ten sizes too big, held around his waist by a dragon-skin belt. The jeans flopped hopelessly over pointy-toed boots, Sandra had told Will, laughing hysterically that they were actually stilettos. He wore a deep green polo shirt that was squeezed over a white hand-knit sweater. Marcus was grateful he had thought to shrink his robes and place them in his overlarge pocket.

Bill, in spite of his upbringing as the son of a man who thought Muggles to be a fascinating species was dressed just as poorly. He first came out of the bedroom he and Fleur were staying in wearing a floral skirt, a bright green slicker, and strap-sandals, but now he was wearing a pair of pinstriped shorts over a pair of black jeans that were slightly less floppy than Marcus', sludge-green goulashes, and a flashy sequined tie-dye T-shirt over a dark red turtleneck. However, the taxi-drivers thought them both to be foreigners as they mistakenly handed their drivers Sickles instead of notes and said no more about it. Between the two of them, they finally got the transaction right and they walked in to King's Cross with about ten minutes to spare.

Bill took Ash with him, casually falling through the wall of platform 9 ¾ , then Will and Sandra were grabbed in the crook of their arms by Marcus and they were thrust through the barrier.  
Before Will was a massive scarlet steam-engine issuing smoke and clouding the assorted knots of witches and wizards shepherding their children on the train. Marcus and Bill were now in the wizards robes. Marcus' – a deep green, Bill's - a somber black.

''Well, you all have a good term.'' Said Bill, hugging and kissing his daughter and niece. Marcus hugged each of them and gave Will an extra hug and kiss on the forehead.

''Yes, you all have a good term.'' He said, smiling.

The three of them walked in to the throng of children, looking around interestedly at all the people. There was an Asian boy, brandishing a glossy magazine at a crowd of older students, mostly girls and smiling.

''C'mon Ryan! Get us an autograph!'' girls shrieked.

There was also a young, round-faced man who was trying to calm down his daughter who was crying and yelling about a boy named Eric.

''Come ON Dad!'' the girl said sadly. ''Why can't I go too!''

''You're ickle Erinny.'' said a round-faced boy with light brown hair who looked to be Will's age.

''Eric!'' said a woman with long, dirty-blonde hair. ''Be nice!''

''Sorry mum.'' Eric said.

''It's alright, Erin.'' said the man soothingly. ''You can go next year.''

''No!'' Erin shouted. ''That git can't fly! He's like a lopsided crup! I can fly loads better than him!''

Will and Sandra laughed, Ash had stalked off early on in the crowd and they hadn't seen her. They climbed on to the train, heaving their light trunk up with ease, and avoiding people as they looked for a compartment.

The least-crowded compartment only had one other occupant – a pale boy with short, dark hair and dark eyes, sitting cross-legged by the window, scratching a jet black cat behind the ears.  
Will opened the door, Sandra stood behind him. ''Mind if we sit here?'' Will asked. The boy looked up and uncrossed his legs.

''Alright.''

''Thanks.'' Will and Sandra sat across from the boy who held out his hand.

''I'm Sorin Valerui.'' He introduced, shaking Will's hand then Sandra's. ''You're – wow! You're William Malfoy, aren't you?'' Sorin asked, surprised.

''Yeah I am, Sorin.'' Will said. ''And this is my friend Sandra Weasley.''

''Hi, nice to meet you. Oh and this is Relia.'' He said, scratching his cat behind the ears again.

''Do you know anything?'' Sorin asked as the train suddenly picked up speed and pulled out of the station.

''About what?'' Will asked, giving Relia a good scratch behind the ears.

''You know – about the Dark Arts?'' Sorin asked, leaning forward.

''Why would I?'' Will asked.

''You mean you don't?'' Sorin asked, awed.

''No.''

''But how could you not-''

''Because my father is a wretched wanker.'' Will said. ''I've been living with my godfather for the passed week or so, I think.''

''You ran away?'' Sorin asked.

''Yeah, I did.'' Will said.

''You never said what happened Will.'' Said Sandra suddenly, after making sure Kneaz was stowed safely in his cage.

''Yeah, c'mon Will. Would you mind telling us?'' Sorin asked eagerly.

''You know something Sorin?'' Will asked.

''What?'' Sorin asked. ''Sorry if I offended you-''

''No, you didn't.'' said Will smiling. ''You're really the first boy my own age not to freak out that I was actually Draco Malfoy's son.''

''But I-''

''Do you want a story or not?'' Will interjected. ''Well, I dunno how long ago but this one night my father was having a sort of party with every other Death-Eater he knew and they were all drunk. My plan was to run off, but then Voldemort came.'' Surprisingly no one shuddered at the mention of his name. ''He's a monster. It's impossible to describe him. He wanted me to be Marked before I even went to Hogwarts but I said no, and I disowned my father. He told me not to show my face or he'd kill me, then I ran off anyway and now he's put up reward posters.''

No one knew what to say. Luckily an elderly witch peeked inside their compartment, pushing a food cart.

''Would you like anything dears?'' she asked them.

They pooled their money and bought as much Chocolate Frogs as they could afford. Sorin seemed more interested in the Famous Witches and Wizards cards than the actual chocolate.

''No!'' he moaned.

''What?'' Sandra asked, her mouth bulging with chocolate.

''I've got about twenty of Modesty Rabnott already.''

''Who's she?'' Will asked. Their compartment door slid open and Ash looked in at them.

''If you've even bothered to read any book on Quidditch you'd know that Modesty Rabnott was the witch who tried to stop Barnabas the Barmy from his barbaric treatment of the Golden Snidget bird. Who was-'' she said, as if she had absorbed the textbook.

''Get-'' Will began.

''Excuse me.'' said a voice. A young Japanese girl appeared next to Ash. ''If you had read the book _Quarrels In Quidditch_ by Elvira Marvraith you would have remembered that it wasn't Barnabas the Barmy it was Barberus Bragge who had done barbaric treatment to the Golden Snidget bird. Barnabas the Barmy tried to teach trolls to do ballet.'' Ash opened her mouth to argue, but flaunted off, her nose in the air. The young girl walked timidly into the compartment.

''Hi.'' She said softly.

''Frog?'' Sorin asked, offering her one.

''Thanks.'' The girl said, sitting next to him.

''That was some piece of work you did back there.'' Will said, impressed.

''Well I love reading.'' The girl said, breathless it seemed with happiness. ''And I've always liked Elvira Marvraith's books-'' she stopped rambling and stared at Will, her eyes grew wondrously large. ''-Wow!'' she cried. ''You're William Malfoy! Oh! Oh! You're in 'Death-Eaters – Then and Now', 'Right Hands of the Dark Arts', 'Dark Dedications', 'A History of the Dark Arts', 'The Second War', and 'Death-Eater Deliberations'.'' She said.

''Really?'' Will asked, surprised. Sandra and Sorin both looked torn between impressed and worried.

''You didn't know?'' the girl asked. Will shook his head. ''Really! I would have researched every book in the face of this Earth if I was the son of Voldemort's right-hand!''

''Well, who are you?'' Sorin asked.

''I'm Yukiko Sakura.'' She introduced. ''I really don't have time to chat. Sorry!'' she stood up and walked toward the door, turning around. ''Oh, before I forget. Have any of you seen a dragon egg? A boy named Druce says he's lost his. A Chinese Fireball one.''

''A dragon egg? God, if this Druce really does have one I'll go starkers and jump in the lake.'' Sorin said. Will and Sandra sniggered. Yukiko smiled.

''Alright, I'll tell Druce then. He really did loose a dragon egg.'' She walked out of the compartment, but doubled back, her ebony hair flying in front of her face.

''Oh and we'll be getting there soon.'' She said. ''So you-'' she faltered at Sorin's name.

''Sorin.'' He said, his mouth crammed with chocolate.

''Right. Sorin, your face's covered in chocolate.'' Sorin looked at Yukiko weirdly as she ran off.

''Know-It-All.'' He mumbled under his breath, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

As Yukiko had told them, the train stopped soon after she left their compartment. Everyone knotted confusedly together. A miffed, important-looking blonde-haired boy looked over the crowd of nervous first-years.

''First-Years follow me please!'' he yelled. His voice was sharp and cold. ''No pushing!''

''Shut up Reg!'' chorused the majority of the older students as they shoved their way off the train.

''I will not take that mockery!'' Reg yelled. ''I am Head Boy! Five points from Ravenclaw Euclid! And five points from Slytherin, Orion! Five points from Hufflepuff too Amelia!'' He avoided Gryffindor for obvious reasons as he had a red and gold Prefect and Head-Boy badge gleaming on his chest.

The boy named Reg led them off a train to a chilly, dark platform. He then walked off, his chest thrust outwards, staring around importantly as if he were some authority figure. At his leave a lantern bobbed overhead.

''Everyone 'ere then?'' a familiar voice called. Will, Sandra, and Sorin grouped together and Will and Sandra smiled. Vincent Crabbe was at the front of the line of first-years

'' 'Ello you two!'' Vincent said jovially.

''Hi sir.'' Will said. Vincent surveyed the three of them with a fatherly look in his eyes then straightened up.

''Right! Come on now!'' he led them to a fleet of wooden boats at the start of a mammoth black lake. ''No more than four ta a boat now! And no one better fall in, mind you!'' Vincent stood the first boat. Will, Sandra, and Sorin were joined by Yukiko, and the boats moved slowly across the lake.

In no time at all, the castle loomed before them. Their windows glowing like orbs amidst a deep black night. The boats docked and Vincent led them up a rocky bank to two towering oak doors. He knocked on the door and it flew open.

Standing there in gold silk robes was George Weasley.


End file.
